


He Was Opera's Bad Boy

by colisahotnorthernmess



Category: Ball & Boe, Classical Music RPF, Music RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Alfie Being a Bad Boy, Body kisses, Clothed Frottage, Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M, Sneaking Around in Hotel Rooms, Touching, Undressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 13:55:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16975842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colisahotnorthernmess/pseuds/colisahotnorthernmess
Summary: A little ficlet based around this recent news story regarding the 'feud' between Alfie Boe and Katherine Jenkins:'Singer Alfie Boe has been accused of reigniting his feud with Katherine Jenkins by defacing a poster of her with a crude insult. The pair clashed when co-starring in a West End production of Carousel last year but appeared to have buried the hatchet. But yesterday at a signing session for her new album Katherine was horrified when she spotted a poster with the c-word scrawled on it. Staff told her Alfie was responsible.'Michael quizzes Alfie over whether he really did commit the crime but - in all honesty - as they lie their together, fooling around on their hotel bed, does Michael really mind whether Alfie is the bad boy of opera that everybody says he is? I don't think so!





	He Was Opera's Bad Boy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LilyGraves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyGraves/gifts).



> This is a gift for LilyGraves, who was kind enough to bookmark and comment on the Ball & Boe story I wrote in 2016 <3

"Be honest, Alfie... did you really do it?"

The Lancastrian started sniggering - he was like a wickedly mischievous schoolboy, and didn't Michael just _know_ it. His smart grey trousers were already down to his ankles and he hadn't even taken his shoes off yet. Boe, unsteadily balanced at the bottom of the bed, was trying to rag the garment off of the end of Michael's legs and, when he didn't initially succeed, Ball half-expected him to pull at them with his pearly-whites, gnawing on them with sharp little teeth.

A  _correction_ Michael had to make - Alfie _wasn't_ a naughty child; he was more like a naughty dog - a bad, disobedient Labrador _pup_. Ironically, he looked like he was on the verge of taking the trousers in his mouth and running down the stairs with them like the Andrex dog would have done with a roll of toilet paper. Until he was glared at and stopped in his tracks.

"Did you, Alf?" the older man repeated.

He was, of course, referring to the latest _scandal_ to rock the classical music world. Alright, so maybe that was putting it slightly _strongly_ , but Katherine Jenkins certainly wouldn't have thought it to be an overstatement. Allegedly, earlier this week, during a album signing in HMV in Manchester, _somebody_ had defaced a poster of the the female singer with the 'c' word, crudely scrawling upon it in black marker pen. And, of _all_ people, the shop staff had claimed that Alfie had done it.

It had been in the news all week, especially after the mezzo-soprano had appeared on Loose Women, appealing for sympathy. But, despite meeting a couple of times since then, for lunch and a quick coffee, and perhaps... _other_ things, Michael hadn't mentioned it to Alfie yet. He thought it might have upset him to talk about it because, surely, it _couldn't_ have been true.

Michael was _beginning_ to change his mind. And those dark and beautiful, puppy-dog eyes wouldn't save Alf if it turned out that it _was_.

There was a devilish grin, and Alfie raised his eyebrows in a comical fashion. "Not telling," he said.

"Alfie?--"

"I don't want to tell you," Boe whispered, beginning to crawl across the bed and clamber atop his friend's recumbent frame. He nuzzled against Ball's now undressed lower half, kissing the long lengths of bare skin with fervour and wild abandon, revelling in how his partner's unshaven legs tickled against his chin, and revelling twice as much in the fact that his own beard was tickling Michael's inner thighs even _more_ , the bristles driving him to the point of distraction with their light, _infuriating_ touch. Almost as infuriating as Alf himself, thought Michael, as he remained there, slumped upon the pillows. He honestly didn't know which way to take him, sometimes.

This was a _rare_ opportunity in a very _discreet_ hotel. Since the day they had decided to put their singing together on hold and, instead, chose to focus on their solo careers for a while, their one biggest regret of the decision was how they would not be able to see one another very often anymore.

Michael thought he would miss Alfie's glorious singing voice the most, from when he was in the shower or the dressing room, to when he was on stage performing with Michael himself. Boe thought that it was Ball's humour he would miss the most, as he always had him in stitches on the tour bus and, despite being the elder of the two, always exuded such youthful exuberance. It turned out that _these_ moments, lying together on the bed, be it sexual or not, is what they would miss the most.

Between his many jobs, flitting between the Radio 2 studio and the recording the One Show, not to mention a few trips down to theatre-land in the West End, Michael had found the time in his busy schedule, and this _place_ , perfectly situated in the backstreets of central London, to see Alf every so often for _more_ than just bite to eat. Having said that, it depended on _how_ you looked at it - for it seemed that Michael Ball was well and truly on the menu _this_ tea-time for Alfie Boe; Alf continued to crawl along his pal's body, allowing their groins to clash together until he heard a telling moan expelled from beneath him.

Boe was still in his jeans and t-shirt, very casual, where Ball felt rather vulnerable in his suit jacket, shirt, half-pulled-off tie and the distinct _absence_ of suit trousers, revealing his underwear - but one thing they shared in common was how they were _tangibly_ excited; Alfie rubbed his hardness wantonly against Michael's.

"Wh--Why? Why don't you want to tell me?" he finally asked him, stammering.

"I don't want to lose my image as opera's _bad_ boy," Alfie had hissed - with every word seemingly piped _directly_ into Michael's ear, making the Phantom star shudder from the feather-light ghosting of his partner's breath. As if he could _ever_ lose that image, given the present circumstances.

"Oh, I don't think you _will_ ," Ball sharply gasped as Boe bucked up against him, the harsh material of his denim-clad arse making every last touch against his thin boxers unbearable. "I _really_ don't think you will, Alfie... Certainly--" he paused to groan, eyes closed, as Alfie rose up alongside him and rooted his needy lips, firmly, into the sensitive flesh of his neck area as he carried on thrusting his whole entire body against _his_. "Certainly... _not_... in _my_ eyes, anyway... Alf..."


End file.
